Departure from Venice, arrival in Turin
On our Naples day, I forgot to mention that we stopped in the Jesu Nuovo church and saw the museum full of Ex Voti: small plaques given as thanks for prayers answered. These Ex Voti honor Saint Moscati, a Christian doctor famous for helping the poor. A bomb casing that fell into the church in 1943 but caused very little damage hangs in the corner.
Back in Venice, we had breakfast, then checked out of the hotel, leaving our bags in the breakfast room. On our way to the vaporetto stop, we passed a museum of stringed instruments. We stepped inside to have a look around at the dozens of violins, cellos, violas, and more exotic variations. The museum also contained a small but informative exhibit on how a violin is made.
We rode the water bus from the Academia stop to the train station, which marked the beginning of the audio tour we had downloaded from Rick Steves’ website. At the train station, we got right back on a different vaporetto and started listening to the tour on our cell phones. I really enjoyed cruising up the Grand Canal, in daylight this time, listening as the voice in my ear pointed out the various palazzos, museums, and important buildings. After the tour concluded at St. Mark’s Square, we briefly considered buying cheesy souvenirs from the many stalls before thinking better of it. No one wants a plastic carnival mask or an ashtray decorated with St Mark’s Basilica, right? Realizing we didn’t have time for a sit-down lunch, we took yet another vaporetto back to our hotel and surveyed the nearby carry out options. I’m so glad we bought a pass for unlimited vaporetto travel; otherwise, at 6.50 Eur for each ride, this day would have been costly.
The cafe nearest our hotel actually looked pretty good, so we got in a short line and waited to order our food. This being Italy, one woman monopolized the counter for ten full minutes as she considered various sandwich options, argued with the cashier, and I don’t know what else, all in loud, spirited Italian. When she was finally finished ordering, the rest of the customers were much more polite and soon Andy and I were able to order and pay for our salami and mozzarella sandwich (him) and tuna salad (me). The vegetables, cheese and tuna came prepacked in a clear plastic container, but I was pleased when after I ordered it, they dressed it simply with olive oil, vinegar, and salt, just as I would have. After I gave my order to the cashier, a patron nicely told Andy that the salad was chicken, not tuna as I had said. When I ate it, I determined that I was right and it was tuna. Ha! I can identify meats, even Italian ones. Andy was happy with his sandwich, which was made to order and then pressed, melting the cheese and toasting the bread. We sat on the elevated sidewalk just outside our hotel to eat.
Our last vaporetto ride took us to the train station. We were sad to leave Venice, but excited about what Turin would hold. Both of us loved Venice, and wish we could have had more time there. Much of Venice’s magic comes from the fact that there are no cars, so people are out in the streets, walking everywhere. You see lots of Italians going about their daily business, toting groceries or walking their dogs. Everything is very compact and close together. Add in the grand architecture and the lapping water of the canals, and you get an atmospheric, beautiful city. I also disagree with the reports that Venice is too touristy to have good food. The restaurants we tried all served reasonably priced, delicious meals.
At the station, I had a challenging time using the pay toilet, and then determining which train to get on, but we figured it out and got on board the right train. We took a slower, regional train to Milan. It was full, and seating was complicated by the fact that no one, including us, sat in our assigned seats. The ticket machine gave us seats diagonally across from one another, despite the fact that we had requested adjacent seats, so we took some available seats that we preferred. As the people whose seats we occupied came on board, they just shrugged and took a nearby open seat. The train was crowded and the man across from us was wearing far too much cologne, so I was very happy when we got to Milan and transferred to a much more comfortable and nearly empty high speed train to Turin. We clocked this one at over 200 miles per hour! Our original train actually continued to Turin, but switching trains (and paying extra) got us to Turin 40 minutes earlier.
As soon as we exited Porta Nuova train station in Turin, we spotted the Best Western Hotel Genova across the street. Check-in was smooth and uneventful, so we set about trying to find a place to eat dinner. The first place we called, Dai Saletta, was fully booked that night and the next, so, figuring it must be good, we made a reservation for Friday night, two days hence. Our next choice, L’Agrifoglio, had a table available, so we left our hotel on foot, and arrived after twenty minutes. The interior, with high, vaulted ceilings and evergreen accents, felt welcoming, and both rustic and elegant.
Our waiter poured us complimentary glasses of prosecco while we reviewed the menu. As soon as we saw the three course white truffle menu for a reasonable 60 Euros, we knew we had to order it. The meal began with plates of raw, hand chopped veal. Thin, silver dollar sized slices of meat slightly overlapped each other and were lightly dressed with olive oil, salt, and pepper. We later saw versions of this dish where the meat had obviously been machine ground, but this one was carefully sliced by hand, and the meat was very high quality: tender and free of fat and gristle. On a cart next to the table, he shaved a dusting of white truffle over our plates before setting them in front of us. I inhaled deeply, letting the rich scent fill my mouth and nose, and took a bite. Bliss. The veal was very clean tasting, but it was enriched and deepened by the truffles. I ended up adding a bit of salt, but otherwise, it was perfect. The most intense truffle aroma faded within a minute or two, though traces of it were still left in the olive oil on the plate when the veal was nearly gone. Next were servings of tajarin, thin egg pasta sauced only with butter. By our table, the waiter tossed the pasta with a raw egg yolk before plating, then grating the raw truffles over. I took one bite, looked at Andy, who was still photographing his plate, and said, “This is insanely good.” In contrast with the previous dish, which was cold, the hot pasta made the truffle aroma more intense, and the soft, rich noodles were the perfect base to taste the white truffles. After a pause, we were served the final course, two orange-yolked eggs fried in butter sunny side up, again topped tableside with fresh shaved white truffles. This course was Andy’s favorite, as the rich eggs gave the white truffle aroma more weight and depth. Strangely, the eggs were unsalted, but we remedied that with the shaker on the table. We concluded our meal by sharing a scoop of perfect lemon sorbetto and floated back to the hotel.
Later, we reflected on how fortunate we were to have eaten this meal. In the United States, white truffles have to be flown in, adding to their already high cost, and restaurants tend to gild the lily and add them to already elaborate dishes. In Italy, restaurants are proud to serve traditional recipes without embellishment, and we were served the three traditional dishes that best showcase white truffles. For some lucky Italians, the type of meal we had may be a yearly indulgence, but for us, it was a possibly once in a lifetime experience that could only have occurred in the Piedmont, in the fall, when white truffles are in season.
Back in Venice, we had breakfast, then checked out of the hotel, leaving our bags in the breakfast room. On our way to the vaporetto stop, we passed a museum of stringed instruments. We stepped inside to have a look around at the dozens of violins, cellos, violas, and more exotic variations. The museum also contained a small but informative exhibit on how a violin is made.
We rode the water bus from the Academia stop to the train station, which marked the beginning of the audio tour we had downloaded from Rick Steves’ website. At the train station, we got right back on a different vaporetto and started listening to the tour on our cell phones. I really enjoyed cruising up the Grand Canal, in daylight this time, listening as the voice in my ear pointed out the various palazzos, museums, and important buildings. After the tour concluded at St. Mark’s Square, we briefly considered buying cheesy souvenirs from the many stalls before thinking better of it. No one wants a plastic carnival mask or an ashtray decorated with St Mark’s Basilica, right? Realizing we didn’t have time for a sit-down lunch, we took yet another vaporetto back to our hotel and surveyed the nearby carry out options. I’m so glad we bought a pass for unlimited vaporetto travel; otherwise, at 6.50 Eur for each ride, this day would have been costly.
The cafe nearest our hotel actually looked pretty good, so we got in a short line and waited to order our food. This being Italy, one woman monopolized the counter for ten full minutes as she considered various sandwich options, argued with the cashier, and I don’t know what else, all in loud, spirited Italian. When she was finally finished ordering, the rest of the customers were much more polite and soon Andy and I were able to order and pay for our salami and mozzarella sandwich (him) and tuna salad (me). The vegetables, cheese and tuna came prepacked in a clear plastic container, but I was pleased when after I ordered it, they dressed it simply with olive oil, vinegar, and salt, just as I would have. After I gave my order to the cashier, a patron nicely told Andy that the salad was chicken, not tuna as I had said. When I ate it, I determined that I was right and it was tuna. Ha! I can identify meats, even Italian ones. Andy was happy with his sandwich, which was made to order and then pressed, melting the cheese and toasting the bread. We sat on the elevated sidewalk just outside our hotel to eat.
Our last vaporetto ride took us to the train station. We were sad to leave Venice, but excited about what Turin would hold. Both of us loved Venice, and wish we could have had more time there. Much of Venice’s magic comes from the fact that there are no cars, so people are out in the streets, walking everywhere. You see lots of Italians going about their daily business, toting groceries or walking their dogs. Everything is very compact and close together. Add in the grand architecture and the lapping water of the canals, and you get an atmospheric, beautiful city. I also disagree with the reports that Venice is too touristy to have good food. The restaurants we tried all served reasonably priced, delicious meals.
At the station, I had a challenging time using the pay toilet, and then determining which train to get on, but we figured it out and got on board the right train. We took a slower, regional train to Milan. It was full, and seating was complicated by the fact that no one, including us, sat in our assigned seats. The ticket machine gave us seats diagonally across from one another, despite the fact that we had requested adjacent seats, so we took some available seats that we preferred. As the people whose seats we occupied came on board, they just shrugged and took a nearby open seat. The train was crowded and the man across from us was wearing far too much cologne, so I was very happy when we got to Milan and transferred to a much more comfortable and nearly empty high speed train to Turin. We clocked this one at over 200 miles per hour! Our original train actually continued to Turin, but switching trains (and paying extra) got us to Turin 40 minutes earlier.
As soon as we exited Porta Nuova train station in Turin, we spotted the Best Western Hotel Genova across the street. Check-in was smooth and uneventful, so we set about trying to find a place to eat dinner. The first place we called, Dai Saletta, was fully booked that night and the next, so, figuring it must be good, we made a reservation for Friday night, two days hence. Our next choice, L’Agrifoglio, had a table available, so we left our hotel on foot, and arrived after twenty minutes. The interior, with high, vaulted ceilings and evergreen accents, felt welcoming, and both rustic and elegant.
Our waiter poured us complimentary glasses of prosecco while we reviewed the menu. As soon as we saw the three course white truffle menu for a reasonable 60 Euros, we knew we had to order it. The meal began with plates of raw, hand chopped veal. Thin, silver dollar sized slices of meat slightly overlapped each other and were lightly dressed with olive oil, salt, and pepper. We later saw versions of this dish where the meat had obviously been machine ground, but this one was carefully sliced by hand, and the meat was very high quality: tender and free of fat and gristle. On a cart next to the table, he shaved a dusting of white truffle over our plates before setting them in front of us. I inhaled deeply, letting the rich scent fill my mouth and nose, and took a bite. Bliss. The veal was very clean tasting, but it was enriched and deepened by the truffles. I ended up adding a bit of salt, but otherwise, it was perfect. The most intense truffle aroma faded within a minute or two, though traces of it were still left in the olive oil on the plate when the veal was nearly gone. Next were servings of tajarin, thin egg pasta sauced only with butter. By our table, the waiter tossed the pasta with a raw egg yolk before plating, then grating the raw truffles over. I took one bite, looked at Andy, who was still photographing his plate, and said, “This is insanely good.” In contrast with the previous dish, which was cold, the hot pasta made the truffle aroma more intense, and the soft, rich noodles were the perfect base to taste the white truffles. After a pause, we were served the final course, two orange-yolked eggs fried in butter sunny side up, again topped tableside with fresh shaved white truffles. This course was Andy’s favorite, as the rich eggs gave the white truffle aroma more weight and depth. Strangely, the eggs were unsalted, but we remedied that with the shaker on the table. We concluded our meal by sharing a scoop of perfect lemon sorbetto and floated back to the hotel.
Later, we reflected on how fortunate we were to have eaten this meal. In the United States, white truffles have to be flown in, adding to their already high cost, and restaurants tend to gild the lily and add them to already elaborate dishes. In Italy, restaurants are proud to serve traditional recipes without embellishment, and we were served the three traditional dishes that best showcase white truffles. For some lucky Italians, the type of meal we had may be a yearly indulgence, but for us, it was a possibly once in a lifetime experience that could only have occurred in the Piedmont, in the fall, when white truffles are in season.